It’s Liquid. It’s Amber. It Ain’t Beer.

Well hello there you.Another Blog This challenge- number 32, in fact. And the challenge is to write about your comfort food.

And exceptionally difficult challenge, for me. You see, I’m not really a food person (Sorry, NotQuiteNigella, I know you’ll be cringing at that). If I could drink all my food, or even better, if I could inhale it, and be nourished simply by the smell of good food, I’d be a happy woman. I just don’t like… chewing. Odd, huh?

So it’s absolutely no surprise that my comfort food is, in fact, a drink. How it came to be is a story of medical ineptitude in a time when no one knew better.

When I was a newborn, I drove my poor mother insane. I had colic and reflux, and screamed 24 hours a day. At three months old, my mum took me off breast milk, onto formula. Bad move. by the time they figured out I was reacting to the cows milk in the formula, it was too late for the boobie. Unfortunately for all involved, I also reacted to soy milk, goats milk, rice milk, even bloody Sunshine milk. So the doctors, in their wisdom, advised my mum to wean me onto 6 bottles of apple juice a day. I can see all of you with any regard for dental hygiene nearly falling off your swivel chairs in shock.

The result of this little escapade was thousands of dollars worth of dental work, 21 fillings by the age of 27, and a strange attachment to apple juice. I love the stuff. If I have a bad day, when I broke up with a boyfriend, if I had my period…. forget beer, Tim Tams or mad eclair binges, give me a big, frosty glass of AJ.